


Thank the Aca-Gods for Skirts

by stick2theplan



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: But only a little, Canon Divergence, Everyone Finds Out, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Stacie totally ships Bechloe, Takes Place During PP2, but it’s brilliant, but more an, idk who came up with that head cannon, minimal spoilers, sort of a get-together fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stick2theplan/pseuds/stick2theplan
Summary: Beca and Chloe should know by now that it’s nigh on impossible for Bellas to keep secrets from each other.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	Thank the Aca-Gods for Skirts

Beca was pretty sure things were okay between her and Chloe after the retreat and almost dying and all that, so she’s kind of surprised when Chloe bursts into her room at some ungodly hour, face red and wet with tears. She vaults out of her chair immediately and crosses the room to Chloe faster than should even be possible with her short legs.

“Chloe? Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

When she opens her arms to offer comfort, Chloe clings to her desperately. Mildly concerned, Beca smooths her hand up and down Chloe’s back. Even if it weren’t for the faint scent of tequila, Beca would be able to tell she’s drunk from the clumsiness of her movements, the glassiness of her eyes, and, well, the fact that she’s crying. Hence being only mildly concerned. Beca hates seeing Chloe cry, of course, but she’s way more adept at handling drunk, sad Chloe than angry, stressed Chloe.

“Don’t walk away from me again,” Chloe says miserably, her face pressed into Beca’s neck. “Please.”

“I—Chlo, it was never you I was walking away from.”

“Yes, it was. Whenever you push the Bellas away, you push me away, too.”

That’s completely true, and Beca might hate herself for it. She apologizes again. It’s much easier this time, now that she’s not on the defensive, now that it’s about Chloe’s happiness and not her own pride. “I was afraid you’d be upset and make me choose, and I…I was kind of afraid I’d give up the internship if you asked me to. I should’ve known you’d never do that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Beca,” Chloe sniffs. “Just please stop breaking my heart, now.”

Okay, she definitely hates herself for it. She tries to make light of it, joking, “Come on, you could corner an unsuspecting freshman in the showers and have her wrapped around your finger before you even have time to miss me.”

Chloe sobs, and Beca thinks that, wow, that was the stupidest thing she’s ever said, but then Chloe leans back a little to look her in the eye. She says, “I don’t want another freshman. I want you.”

And then Chloe Beale kisses Beca Mitchell full on the mouth.

It’s…aca-amazing, for lack of a better word.

She’s an idiot, she realizes. For all the times it’s crossed her mind that she’ll be telling the story of how she and Chloe met for the rest of her life, it never occurred to her that this would be why. Jesus. Duetting in the shower? Of course that’s not how the story of two friends begins. How has no one mentioned this before?

Fat Amy’s words come back to her. _“You’re Beca and Chloe,”_ she’d said, like it’s some unalienable truth and not just their respective names.

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Beca.

“What’s so funny?” Chloe asks, already smiling, too, as if just seeing Beca smile makes her happy. Maybe it does. The feeling is kind of mutual.

“I can’t believe _Fat Amy_ is better than me at reading subtext.”

Chloe arches a brow, waiting for more of an explanation.

“She was worried about us the minute she found out about the internship. Same with Jesse. It’s like they knew without knowing.”

The look in Chloe’s eyes is intense. “You were afraid you’d quit if I asked you to?” she asks in disbelief, as if she’s only just processed what Beca said earlier. “But it’s your dream.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I changed my priorities for you,” Beca says with a shrug. “I joined the Bellas because you asked me to. I came back after Aubrey booted me because you asked me to. I stayed here for four years instead of moving to LA because of you, Chlo. I have a really hard time saying no to you.”

“Beca?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

True to her word, Beca leans in obediently, but it’s Chloe who immediately deepens the kiss. Maybe it should feel weird how quickly Chloe’s gone from her purely platonic best friend to someone she wants to kiss every day for the foreseeable future. But the several dozen songs parading through the back of her mind tell her she’s not the first person to fall in love with her best friend without realizing it. Hm. There’s a mix in there that she files away for later.

All in all, it’s a great kiss, but, the second Chloe starts tugging at the hem of Beca’s shirt, Beca grabs her wrists and holds them still.

“Woah there, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Chloe whines, pouting. She tugs her right hand free from Beca’s grasp and traces the neck of Beca’s tank top with her index finger. “ _I_ think it’s the best idea.”

“Chlo, you’re drunk. And…emotional.”

“So? Don’t you think I’m sexy, Becs?”

“You’re very sexy,” Beca says, being as honest as she is placating. “You know what else is sexy?”

“You?”

Beca blushes. “Consent, Chloe. Consent is sexy. And, right now, you can’t give it.”

“Okay,” Chloe says, surprisingly unfazed. She leans in for a chaste kiss, then gestures to Beca’s bed. “Can I stay?”

“Um, what?”

“If you don’t want me drunk, I’ll sober up.”

“Chlo…”

“Do you not…” Chloe frowns and looks down at her hands. “Do you not want me…at all?”

“No, no, it’s not—” Beca scrubs her own hand over her face. “You’re hot. You don’t need me to tell you that—”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re _crazy_ hot, dude, and, if that’s what—I mean, if we were, you know, not _us_ , I’d be right there with you. But you’re also my best friend, and I love you, and I don’t want us to fuck that up because we let our, like, hormones get in the way.”

“Becs. First, don’t call me “dude” right now. It’s bad for my ego. Two, I won’t regret this. I promise. I don’t just wanna hook up. I want to be with you. For realz.”

It takes everything Beca has to keep a straight face and not jump Chloe then and there.

“Okay, hot stuff,” she says. “You lie down, and we’ll see if you still feel that way when you’re sober and I’m done with this assignment.”

“Promise you’ll wake me up,” Chloe says, kicking off her shoes and climbing into Beca’s bed.

“Sure. I promise.”

It’s almost 2AM by the time Beca finishes up the essay she was working on. She looks down at her bed, where Chloe is fast asleep, and sighs fondly. As much as Beca tries to suppress her softer side, there’s no denying how cute Chloe is, with her nose burrowed into Beca’s pillow, or how much her presence soothes Beca’s soul. Promises or not, there’s no way she’s waking Chloe up when she’s sleeping so peacefully. It’s been a stressful year; she deserves whatever breaks she can catch.

Beca eases herself into bed and gently wraps her arm around Chloe’s waist. They can talk about everything in the morning.

Of course, come morning, Chloe still knows exactly what she wants, and, as with almost everything Chloe wants, it takes very little for her to get Beca on board. They’ve been subconsciously building to this for three and a half years, after all.

It’s by no means seamless—

_“See!” Chloe giggles, pressing kisses all over Beca’s face. “This is why I wish I had experimented more.”_

_“This?”_

_“Yeah, so I could wow you when we finally did this.”_

_“Miss Beale, were you trying to seduce me?”_

_“Ohmigod, did you just reference a movie?”_

_“Everyone knows that quote.”_

_“Beca Mitchell quoted a movie for me! This is the best day of my life.”_

—but it’s them, so it’s kind of perfect, anyway.

It’s early Wednesday morning, and neither has anywhere they have to be for a few hours. Sunlight filters into the room and gives Chloe a sort of fiery golden glow around the edges that Beca chases lightly over her curves with her fingertips. It’s the most whole Beca has felt basically all year—she’s no longer keeping secrets from Chloe or having to choose between work and the Bellas or wondering if she made a mistake breaking up with Jesse. It’s hard to stress about anything when she’s got Chloe in her arms. Beca’s in the middle of thanking several deities for how much time Fat Amy spends out of the house with Bumper when Chloe interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we keep this between us? For now?”

Beca’s about to agree wholeheartedly, but then she hesitates. “Why?” she asks.

“Am I not allowed to want some privacy?”

“Chlo, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

Chloe makes a noise of objection.

“Dude. Do I need to remind you how we met?”

“Beca,” Chloe whines, slapping her arm lightly. “New rule. Don’t call me dude when we’re naked.”

“Fine, ow, fine! _Babe_. My point is…dorm showers? Your lady jam? Total invasion of privacy?”

They’re both laughing at the memory.

“I know. It’s just…” Chloe lifts Beca’s hand from her hip and twines their fingers together. “Everything between us belongs to the Bellas, too. I want…I’m afraid…graduating means moving on from Bellas stuff. I don’t want us to be only Bellas stuff. I want this to be ours. I want to be able to take it with me.” Chloe gazes across the pillow at Beca, eyes filled with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Is that okay?”

Smiling gently, Beca rubs her thumb over Chloe’s. “It’s more than okay. I wasn’t asking you to justify anything. We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, alright? But, if it makes you feel any better, the Bellas brought us together, but I don’t love you because we’re co-captains. I love you because you’re my best friend.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

When Beca tells Jesse—okay, so she doesn’t tell him so much as he walks in on her and Chloe making out in the Bellas practice space—he’s characteristically easygoing about it.

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh that’s not quite disbelieving. “Stacie told me you were here working on choreo.”

Chloe narrows her eyes at him, but the effect is ruined by the mischievous grin she can’t contain. “We _are_ working on choreo,” she says, “and if you say otherwise to _anyone_ , I’ll cut you.”

Jesse walks right up to them with a matching grin, extends his hand to Chloe, and says, “You have been an admirable opponent, Miss Beale. I concede to your victory and bestow upon you all the rights and privileges of Beca Mitchell’s tonsil hockey partner.”

“Ew,” Beca says as they shake hands. “Can you not bond over this? It’s weird.”

Chloe waves daintily to an invisible crowd. “I feel like I just won the Hunger Games,” she giggles.

Obligingly, Jesse cups his hands around his mouth and whisper-shouts like he’s her distant, roaring crowd of admirers.

“If you turn my girlfriend into a nerd, I’m going to sue you for damages,” Beca tells him.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs and fiddles with the headphones around her neck. “She was serious about not telling anyone, though. We’re keeping it on the DL for now. You know how the Bellas can get.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Jesse says and mimes crossing his heart.

“Okay, great. Bye, Jesse,” Chloe says, shooing him.

“But I was going to ask—”

“Try again later. Bye.”

* * *

A week into their relationship, Beca is taking a well-deserved afternoon break from finals prep when Chloe appears at her elbow and perches against the edge of her desk. She’s done it a thousand times before, but this is the first time Beca sits back and rakes her eyes over her best friend. Chloe’s wearing a pleated green skirt, a sleeveless white blouse, and a huge grin by the time Beca’s gaze makes it up to her face.

“Are you working on anything important?” she asks, gesturing to the mixing software that fills Beca’s laptop screen.

It’s not critical, per se—it’s a grad present for Chloe, actually—so Beca hesitates, and Chloe interprets that as a no. She takes Beca’s left hand off the keyboard and guides it up, under her skirt, to press between her legs. Beca pulls in a shaky breath.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” Chloe tells her. “The house is empty.”

Just like that, Beca sets her headphones on the desk and sinks off the chair to her knees. The mix can wait. Making Chloe Beale go cross-eyed with pleasure is the only thing that’s ever brought her as much joy as making music.

Luckily, she happens to be really, really good at both.

Maybe too good, actually, because neither hears the door to the loft click open.

“Hey, hey, Chlo-way-way,” Fat Amy says, spotting Chloe but not yet able to see the whole scene as she nears the top of the stairs.

Chloe eeps and pushes Beca’s head away, but it’s far too late. Beca’s on her knees at Chloe’s feet, and Chloe’s face and neck are adorably flushed, and, even if Fat Amy didn’t see anything, which she _definitely_ did, it’s painfully obvious what was going on.

At least they’re both fully dressed. Sort of. Chloe’s underwear is around her ankles instead of her hips, but it is still technically on her body. Thank the aca-gods for skirts.

“Shut the aca-fucking-front door,” says Fat Amy.

“Amy,” Beca says placatingly, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t freak out.”

“Too late!” says Fat Amy. She waves her arms spastically. “You’re giving Chloe a blowie!”

“Uh, I mean, that’s not _exactly_ what that was. You can’t give a girl a blowie.”

“It’s the lezzy equivalent of a blowie!”

“Can we stop saying “blowie?”” Chloe asks, hiding her face in her hands.

“Yeah,” Beca says quickly and shakes her head as if to dislodge the word from her brain. She softly curls her hand around Chloe’s upper arm and strokes soothingly with her thumb. “Yeah, totally. Sorry, babe.”

“Babe?” Fat Amy echoes in a horrified tone. “Oh my god, you’re, like, in love. This is the biggest plot twist since Titanic.”

Chloe frowns, perplexed. “There were iconically no plot twists in that movie. It’s the _Titanic_.”

“And, yet, we were all still surprised by the ending.”

The analogy makes even less sense to Beca than it does to Chloe, so she attempts to get the conversation back on track. This whole thing is going very differently than it did with Jesse. “Look, you can’t tell anyone, okay?” she asks.

“No, no, no,” Fat Amy says. “We tried this before and it ended with booby traps.”

“Well, this is different because I’m in on the secret,” Chloe says brightly.

“Fine,” Fat Amy says eventually. “But you owe me!”

Beca rolls her eyes. “You really want to compare debts?”

Fat Amy flips her off and starts down the stairs. “Just give me a five minute lead before you put your head back under her skirt,” she shouts over her shoulder. “No offense, Chloe, but I don’t want to hear that.”

The door slams shut.

“Oh my god,” Chloe whispers, sounding just shy of mortified.

“I’m surprised you’re not more chill about this,” Beca says, lightly touching Chloe’s bright red cheeks.

Chloe shrugs. “People seeing my body is one thing, but my O-face is…” She can’t blush any more; she’s already redder than her hair. “…exclusive content.”

“Sucks for everyone else, then, because your O-face is sexy as hell.”

“Is it totally weird? It is. It’s totally weird. I—”

“Hey, no, it’s not weird. Really, you don’t have to have a reason at all. The only thing that matters is you’re uncomfortable, and you shouldn’t have to be. Like I said before, if something’s bothering you, I’ll always do my best to take care of it.”

“Oh, something’s definitely bothering me right now,” Chloe says, rolling her hips. “Think you can help?”

Beca smirks. “You gonna give me that exclusive content?”

* * *

They’re supposed to be downstairs with the other Bellas for movie night. Beca knows this. Chloe knows this. But, as they turn a corner, Chloe catches Beca’s gaze and bites her lip, and how is Beca supposed to ignore _that_ look? She has to kiss her. It’s, like, a rule or something.

So they’ll be a few minutes late for movie night. Whatever.

Then Chloe tilts her head and deepens the kiss, and, frankly, Beca would be fine with missing movie night altogether. She doesn’t even like movies anyway.

“Oh,” says a familiar voice, and Beca and Chloe pull apart to see Emily Junk standing in the hall, staring at them. She seems to be…completely unsurprised, actually.

“They’re just making out in the hall,” Emily shouts casually down to the rest of the Bellas as she turns on her heel and heads for the stairs.

“LEGACY!” Chloe shrieks.

“Ow, babe, my ear,” Beca complains.

As much as she would rather go back to kissing Chloe and put off dealing with their teammates, Chloe looks completely panicked, so Beca gently takes her hand. “Hey,” she says tentatively, “you okay?”

“No!” Chloe squeaks. Then, she seems to consider it for a second. “Maybe? Are you?”

“I’m kind of at the “shout it from the rooftops” stage, honestly.”

Chloe takes a deep breath. “Change is good,” she whispers, more to herself than Beca, who’s heard this mantra several times over the last two weeks. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

In the living room, the other Bellas are snickering. They only laugh harder when they see how red Chloe’s face is.

“We can explain,” Chloe says, too breathlessly, too frantically.

The laughter dies off abruptly.

Stacie is looking at them with dawning elation, like it’s Christmas morning and every single one of her presents is a dick in a box.

“Hold up,” Cynthia Rose says slowly. “Legacy was _joking_.”

Emily squeaks, affronted. “No, I wasn’t!” she insists. “They were aca-totally sucking face.”

“We need to make a dictionary of acceptable aca-words,” Beca says exasperatedly.

Everyone ignores her, except Chloe, who makes a distracted noise of agreement.

“Of course they were goin’ at it,” says Fat Amy from the couch. “Those bitches have been snatch wrestling like they’re training to beat Nacho Libre.”

“Ew?” says Ashley.

Stacie whips around towards Fat Amy with a fiery glare that puts Aubrey’s worst to shame. “You _knew_?! And you didn’t tell me? You traitor!”

Fat Amy splutters and flails against the couch cushions in an attempt to put some distance between herself and Stacie’s wrath. “Save me, Beca! I’m too hot to die!”

“Wait a minute,” Emily says, looking at Stacie with deeply furrowed eyebrows. “You’re the one who told me they’re together.”

“Stacie!” Chloe shrieks, though at a lesser volume than earlier.

“I did not! I said they belong together and they’re the OTP of the a cappella world.”

“Pretty sure me and Bumper—” Fat Amy cuts herself off at Stacie’s irate look. “Bloe. It’s totally Bloe.”

Chloe winces, and Beca decides it’s past time for one of them to say something. Judging by the look on Chloe’s face, it seems like it’ll have to be her.

“Okay, nerds, here’s the deal.” She shifts her grip on Chloe’s hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing reassuringly. “Chloe and I are together.”

It’s like the entire room takes a collective breath, readying to all speak at once, but Beca doesn’t give them the chance.

“And, like, we love you guys, and we definitely appreciate that you care so much about us that this is a big deal to you, too,” she says, trying to chose her words carefully. “But, um, just remember that we’re real people in a real relationship, and we need, like, privacy and space sometimes. We, uh, we want this to work, you know?”

Stacie waggles her eyebrows suggestively at the word _privacy_. 

“Aw,” Flo coos, “I knew you were sleeping together, but I didn’t know you were in love.”

Stacie whips around again.

“I’m joking!” Flo says frantically. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know! I was just making a Friends reference.”

“She’s telling the truth, Stace,” Beca says. “Amy’s the only one who knew.”

“Well, and my mom,” Chloe says.

“You told your mum you’re bumping uglies with Beca?” asks Fat Amy.

This time, it’s Beca’s turn to wince, but Chloe rakes her gaze over Beca’s petite frame and says, “Nothing about Beca Mitchell is ugly.”

“That’s _so_ cute,” Emily says dreamily.

“Seriously?” Cynthia Rose asks. “That’s it? No gay panic or anything?”

Beca shrugs.

“I think Beca word-vomited all her gay panic onto that DSM chick,” says Jessica.

“Don’t remind me,” Chloe says, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Cynthia Rose huffs, underwhelmed. “Y’all got it so easy.”

“I’ve been waiting three years for these bi disasters to figure their shit out,” Stacie huffs. “It better be that easy.”

* * *

They’re out front taking group graduation photos when Aubrey arrives. She starts shouting Beca’s name the second she gets out of her car. Confused but amenable, Beca makes her way across the lawn with Chloe close by her side.

“Hey, dude,” Beca calls, “what’s—”

She pulls up short when she gets close enough to see the look on Aubrey’s face. Aubrey looks _mad_. Beca takes a cautious step back and glances to Chloe for help, but Chloe just shrugs, bewildered.

“ _You_ ,” Aubrey says stabbing her finger in Beca’s direction, as though all the shouting hadn’t made it clear who she was addressing.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Beca says defensively.

“Really?” Aubrey asks, stretching the word into a sarcastic accusation. “ _It_ is Chloe.”

Beca chokes a little. Behind her, Stacie outright cackles. “Um…okay, I take it back?”

“You hurt her and I’ll make your life a living hell, Mitchell.”

“Uh, yeah, somehow I believe that.”

“Aubrey!” Chloe objects.

“And _you_!” Aubrey says, jabbing her finger at Chloe. “Why on earth did I hear about this from _Stacie_? I’ve listened to you moon over this idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—for years. The least you could do is tell me when it finally happens. You are infuriating, the both of you.” For a brief, terrifying moment, Beca thinks they’ve revived the aca-dictator, but then Aubrey forcibly hauls her and Chloe into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she says.

“Ah, Jesus, dude,” Beca protests, “I’m not—”

“Everybody bring it in!” Chloe shouts.

As all the other Bellas crush in around them, Beca narrows her eyes at Chloe, who merely smiles, bright and innocent. “You’re lucky I love you, you dork,” she says fondly.

“Love you, too,” Chloe says, holding her graduation cap to her head and leaning in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment to save a life.*
> 
> *Specifically, Fat Amy’s. Stacie is pissed.


End file.
